


Wolf Bits

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Showverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Collection of drabbles and fic snippetsI deleted 'Wolf Bits', added some of the snippets in there to 'Wolf Songs', and then changed the name of that one to 'Wolf Bits' ;)Wow, that didn't sound confusing at all :')





	1. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa's first kiss, showverse

Jon recognizes the exact moment Sansa hears his footsteps and knows it’s him. She almost leaps up from the flat stone in front of the heart tree and gathers her skirts. She doesn’t quite run, she glides. She doesn’t quite smile, but her face is alight with excitement and her lips are parted in surprise. Her eyes shine and her cheeks are flushed, the rest of her face almost white against her hair kissed-by-fire.

He fires up his own steps to close the distance between them more quickly. She throws her arms around his neck, truly smiling now, and chuckles out: “You came back. You’re really back!”

Jon steadies her with a hand on her waist and one on her shoulder. “Of course I came back. I told you so, didn’t I? I’ll always come back to you.”

Sansa presses their foreheads together, laughing, but pulls back almost immediately. Their gazes lock. A current starts tingling between them, crackling in the cold air, igniting a fire in his blood. She parts her lips again as her eyes flicker to his mouth. He knows he should let go, turn his head, say something. But he doesn’t. Sansa leans in and their lips touch. He closes his eyes and tries to hold still as she kisses him and slides her hands down to twist them in the furs over his chest. It takes all the effort he can muster, but he manages to stay immobile.

Then Sansa pulls back and Jon opens his eyes to find her looking at his face, biting her full pink bottom lip, and he’s lost. He slips one hand around her waist and cups the back of her head with the other to pull her closer. He crushes their mouths together and his hands tighten their grip as she moans in surprise. He pours everything he’s been holding back for weeks into this kiss and she returns it with just as much passion.

When he slides his tongue between her welcoming lips, she pushes herself into his body so hard he staggers and smiles. Her tongue tastes like lemons and honey as it teases his back so she can claim him. His blood is singing and the heat is building. For a moment he wonders at the sweet fog buzzing in his head, but the thought is silenced by his jubilating heart.

When Jon finally breaks the kiss to catch his breath, he gathers Sansa in his arms as she rubs her cheek against his. They spend the next minutes panting, holding on to each other for support. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, only holding her even closer.

“Don’t be,” she breathes as she embraces him more tightly. Gently he disentangles them and cups her face in both of his hands, holding her gaze. “We can’t.”

She tries to tuck away a stray curl that keeps falling over his eyes and brushes the tip of her nose over his, closing her eyes as she sighs: “I know.”


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a really short Jon/Sansa drabble, basically a Rumbelle + Arwen/Aragorn mash-up

When the door creaked open, he reached for Longclaw. It was her, red hair glowing in the candle light, blue eyes bright, even in the dark. She sat down on the bed and cupped his cheek. "You're not really here. This is a dream."

"No, but I'm back in Winterfell, waiting for you."

He stroked her hair and shook his head. "You shouldn't be. When we said goodbye, we both knew it was for good."

She withdrew her hands and looked down at her lap. "I still hope you'll come back."

He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. "Even if I did, we couldn't be together. You know that. It was a dream, Sansa, nothing more."

She leaned in to press their foreheads together. "It was enough."


	3. Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa needs help with something...

Jon knocked on the door and waited for Sansa's soft answer before he entered. He couldn't see her when he turned away from the door. "Sansa?" he called out. "You wanted a word with me?"

Her voice drifted to him from behind her dressing screen. "Could you help me with something first, Jon?"

He hesitated for a moment before walking around the screen to see Sansa standing with her face turned away from him, the back of her gown hanging open, exposing her creamy shoulders and thin shift to him. 

"Lace me up, please?" she asked, twisting her long neck to look at him. "I sent my maid away. I forgot the lacings on this dress are at the back", she explained when he didn't respond, collecting her hair over one shoulder.

He nodded and took a step forward, tentatively setting to work as he tried to avoid touching her. He was close enough to smell the lavender scent of her hair and the rose oil on her skin.

Sansa sighed. "I'm not made of glass, Jon. It needs to be tighter!"

He swallowed and grunted, not trusting his voice to come out right with how dry his mouth was. He started again, trying to follow Sansa's instructions.

After a while, she clicked her tongue and commanded: "Harder, Jon!"

He gulped and pulled away. He stood there, hands frozen in mid-air, until she turned around to glare at him.

"What's the matter with you? Do you want this dress to fall off me?"

He couldn't help it, his eyes travelled down to where her chest was heaving in annoyance, barely concealed by her fiery hair. Her dress was still hanging loose around her upper body, revealing too much skin.

Others take him, but  _gods,_ that gown falling to the floor, baring every inch of her was a sight he'd love to behold. His fingers twitched and his cock stirred at the thought alone.

_Fuck, keep it together, Snow!_

Sansa's lips had parted and her eyes had grown wide. A deep blush was creeping up her cheeks. She averted her eyes, biting her lip. "Just finish and do it properly now."

He did so as quickly as he could and left her chambers without another word, whatever matter she'd wished to discuss long forgotten. 

 


	4. You'll never take my soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as an alternative timeline for D & U. I've decided not to continue it and I'm going to delete it, but I'm posting the first chapter here, in my ficlet collection.
> 
> This is not the D&U sequel I'm talking about. Just a different idea I had for the original story which I decided to abandon.

Sansa looked glorious, her face flushed pink, her eyes hooded, her lips slightly parted. She held Jon’s hands firmly planted on her breasts as he felt her starting to lose her rhythm. She steadied herself for a moment and started rocking her hips more urgently. When she threw back her head, her long white throat became exposed and the ends of her fiery hair tickled his thighs. As her walls clenched around his cock, she cried out and pressed herself down until he was buried deeper inside her than ever before.

Sansa lunged forward, collapsing on top of him to attack his lips and neck, panting and laughing all the while. When she pulled back, he grabbed her breasts to suck at her nipples. She slipped her arms under his shoulders and resumed her earlier movements. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible, moving his hands down to guide her hips.

Jon pulled her up so he could watch her again. He grabbed her hips more tightly before allowing his hands to roam up her body, leaving his right on her breast, pinching her nipple. A high mewl escaped from her mouth. His left hand travelled further up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her parted lips.

He could feel that she was close again. She inclined her head and closed her mouth over his thumb. She circled it with her warm wet tongue and sucked hard, drawing an inhuman groan from his throat. His balls tightened and he started thrusting up into her wet heat, aching for more friction.

Jon woke up gasping for air, sticky with sweat, his cock leaking and straining against his smallclothes. He pushed them down harshly and wrapped his hand around his member. He closed his eyes and started tugging his hand up and down in swift strokes. With the images from his dream still vivid in his mind, he found his release within minutes.

He crashed back against the pillows, panting. Eyes still shut, he reached with his other hand to find a drying cloth. He grabbed the first thing his fingers touched and used it to clean up his seed. When he sat up to check if he’d wiped everything away, he noticed the cloth in his hand was one of the ridiculous tunics Daenerys had given him. He groaned as the realization hit him. Today was his wedding day.


	5. Rice Dramatically

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Jon does so, pulling Sansa close. As people start clearing their throats, he realizes his kiss might be a little too enthusiastic for church, but he can’t let the blush appearing on his cheeks bother him.

For the longest time he didn’t dare dreaming about this, and even now it doesn’t feel quite real yet. Sansa looks radiant, face glowing, her fiery hair pinned up in soft braids and her wedding dress clinging to her figure and then flaring out at the hips, the skirts floating around her in an ethereal cloud.

There are tears in her eyes and he brushes one that’s escaped away with his thumb. “Hey, don’t ruin your make-up before picture time, Mrs. Snow,” he teases her.

“It’s waterproof!” she points out, rolling her eyes, lightly swatting his arm before pressing a quick peck to his lips. He can feel her smile into the kiss and chases her as she tries to pull away.

The church has cleared by then, all the guests having moved outside to wait for them to walk out as husband and wife and to offer their congratulations.

Part of him wants to stay inside, make them wait a little longer, so he can draw out this moment where it’s just the two of them a little longer. But he’s also eager to show the world that this amazing, beautiful woman is his now.

He takes her hand, giving it a light squeeze before turning to the doors. Reaching them is more difficult than it should be, with the way he can hardly keep his eyes off her, but eventually they do and step out into the bright sunlight.

Immediately they’re assaulted by a chorus of cheers and whoops, accompanied by loud applause and an onslaught of soft, small kernels raining down on them. 

Startled, Jon jerks his head away. Sansa tries to shield herself with her bouquet, chuckling in surprise.

The people closest to the doors keep throwing rice at them in dramatic gestures. He recognizes Robb and Arya and Bran and Rickon, but also Sam, Pyp, Grenn and Satin.

“It was your Aunt Dany’s idea!” Arya guffaws.

Sansa faces him and almost chokes on a chortle. “Jon, your hair!”

He groans as he tries to imagine what his curls must look like, dusted with kernels of rice, and how he’s going to get it all out.

But Sans is still beaming at him, so he dives in for another kiss. Today he’s the happiest man alive, and he won’t let anything bother him. He’s not going to cause a drama over a little rice.


	6. Winter is coming

Sansa found Jon on the battlements, like she had all those years ago. So much had changed since that day.

Soon, when her belly was sure to grow even larger, she wouldn't even be able to come up here by herself. 

He was lost in thought, looking out over the moors. He turned as she came closer, a frown still etched into his face despite the smile that started tugging up his lips.

She clutched his elbow. "What's troubling you?"

He angled his face up and sighed, closing his eyes against the snowflakes drifting down all around them.

"Nothing but the usual," he said, siding his arm around her back to pull her closer. 

Chuckling, she let her head rest against his shoulder. "The usual?"

"Winter is coming," he reminded her, as if she could ever forget.

"It is," she mumbled, burying her face deeper into the fur of his cloak. "But the Starks will endure, my love."

He pressed a kiss to her hair and rested his free hand on her belly. "We will."


	7. The Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has received a letter from Cersei...

“You’re not doing this, Jon!” Sansa protested.

They were all gathered together in Sansa’s solar.

He tried to walk away from her. “The decision is mine to make.”

She reached for his hand. “You don’t have to do this alone! We’re all here to help you!”

“Sansa is right, Jon,” Arya piped up.

Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but his nostrils flared. He pursed his lips, something she’d seen him do before to compose himself. “Then tell me, what should I do?”

“Let me come with you,” Arya suggested.

“Absolutely not!” he objected at the same time Sansa gasped: “That’s out of the question!

“We should all sit down and think about how we’re going to do this. We need a plan!” She turned to Bran. “Perhaps Bran can help us?”

A small quirk of his lips was the only sign her brother had heard her words.

“There’s no time. I’m going to King’s Landing to talk to Cersei Lannister, and I’m going there alone!”

Sansa watched as he stormed away from them, mouth agape as she glanced at Arya, who had a deep crease between her eyebrows.


	8. Royal Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how the Rhaegar/Elia/Lyanna situation happened in this universe, but I wouldn't worry too much about it...
> 
> Meghan's bouquet and the speculation about what Harry was whispering to her gave me Jonsa feels and then this happened! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jon is surprised at how relaxed he feels entering the Sept with Aegon by his side. They walk down the long aisle, flanked by two walls of smiling faces as the buzz of voices fills the Sept, until they are greeted by the High Septon.

They'll have to wait at least twenty more minutes until Sansa arrives. It's finally happening, today he is marrying the girl of his dreams. He can't believe it's only been two years since they met on a blind date, set up by Lady Margaery Tyrell.

He glances at the front row, where the woman in question is offering him a huge grin and a thumbs-up. He's always liked Margaery's respectful disregard for protocol. She became part of the royal family's inner circle about three years ago, due to Lady Olenna's and King Rhaegar's plans to marry her to Aegon. Those plans fell through when they discovered he only had eyes for her brother Loras.

As the last guests and their family members shuffle to their seats, Jon starts to appreciate his brother's talent for small talk. Usually it annoys him, but now it's distracting him from his increasing nerves.

Rhaenys strides in with her husband Dickon — Visenya and Nymeria aren't with them, they're Sansa's flower girls today — and she winks at him, mouthing: "Good luck, little brother!"

All the guests rise and then the moment is there. Sansa glides in on her father's arm, looking like an angel. Her gown is simple and elegant, the skirt only lightly billowing around her legs as she's coming closer. Her face is covered, but he can spy a glimpse of red underneath her veil. 

Ned places Sansa's hand in Jon's, patting it one last time before retreating to his seat, and Jon gulps at the vision before him. Her hair is pinned up in soft braids, her face is glowing and he swears he could drown in those eyes. 

"You look radiant," he whispers, and her answering smile almost knocks him off his feet.

The ceremony passes in a blur. He says all the right words at all the right times, but all he's aware of is the squeeze of her fingers and the only thing he sees is her face.

It's only when the Septon has pronounced them "one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever" that he starts regaining his senses. He can't believe it. As of now, Sansa is his wife.

The guests start leaving the Sept and Visenya approaches them to hand Sansa her bouquet. Jon's eyes are drawn to the conspicuous icy blue.

"Winter roses?'" he murmurs.

Sansa glances at him, offering him a cautious smile. "They were your mother's favourites."

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes hers back, his heart overflowing with even more love for this amazing woman. 


	9. Beauty

Dany’s beauty was delicately flamboyant. Her features were fine and her frame slight to the point where it made her look frail. But the alien extravagance of her silver hair and violet eyes betrayed the ferocity underneath.

It was the kind of beauty a man couldn’t stop staring at, the kind he didn’t wish to look away from. It was the kind of beauty he would be reluctant to touch, afraid it would shatter and prove to be unreal. 

Sansa’s beauty was solid and comforting, Her hair was bright and sweet-smelling and soft when he ran his fingers through it. The twinkle in her blue eyes could warm him all the way to his core, and just imagining the curve of her lips could stir him. Her smile made him feel alive, a brush of her fingers calmed him and excited him all at once.

He wanted to be near her and touch her all the time. He wanted to hold her and drink in the truth she offered him. 


	10. I’m not a cruel woman, Jon Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a vague idea and a fairly bare snippet of conversation. Not sure where I’m going with this and whether I’m going to use it, but I thought I’d share anyway.

They’re married, Jon is gentle with her in bed. Sansa thinks it’s because he doesn’t want her and decides to treat their bedding as something she has to suffer through in silence, lying still.

Eventually he can’t take it anymore and tells her he’ll stop visiting her bed if she wants him to.

“Have you tired of me so quickly?” she asks coolly.

He snaps. “At least I tried!”

“Hardly,” she sighs. ”You seem afraid to touch me.”

“And rightly so, you’re disgusted by me,” he fumes.

She shrugs. “I’m not. I just wish you’d at least pretend to want me.”

“I do.” He gulps. “Want you.”

“You’re yet to show any sign of this supposed passion,” she huffs. “You’re always so cautious and gentle ”

“Do you want me to be rough with you?” he wonders, puzzled by her words.

“It would make things easier for the both of us,” she points out. “We could forget ourselves and pretend.”

“Pretend?”

“That you love me.” Her eyes are hard.

“I do love you,” he whispers. “And I’ll be a good husband to you, if you’ll help me.”

There’s a pause, but her glare doesn’t soften. “I believe you, but you still want her.”

His lips part, ready to object.

“Don’t try to deny it. I’m not a cruel woman, Jon Snow. You can still have her. But only on my conditions.”

 

 


	11. Cum for me (or don't. not yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Already posted this on Tumblr a while back

Their eyes lock and there’s a dangerous moment where the balance can tip to the wrong side. She can see the tension on his face, the fear that he might have taken it too far. And for the blink of an eye, the doubt seeps in, but then she moans: “Yes, I’m a filthy slut, but I’m yours.”

A second finger joins the first, and slowly he starts pumping them in and out of her, wet sounds filling the room. He presses his thumb to her clit and his mouth finds hers again.

He curls his fingers inside of her, and she’s so close. “Do you want to cum for me?” he rasps,

“Yes, yes,” she pants, and he pulls his hand away, leaving her empty and bereft.

“I don’t think so,” he smirks at her as she pulls away to glare at him. “You’re a filthy little slut, and I don’t think you deserve to cum yet.”

He lifts his fingers to his lips, holding her gaze and pops one into his mouth to suck her off it, humming in appreciation. He moves his fingers to her own mouth, pulling at her bottom lip, coating it with her own juices. “Here,” he says. “Have a taste. This is how wet you are for me.”

She obeys, taking his fingers into her mouth and not breaking eye contact as she licks them clean thoroughly. She’s never tasted herself like this before, and it’s definitely not that bad. The best part of it however is the way Jon’s pupils dilate, leaving only a thin circle of grey right around the edge.


	12. this is as good a place to fall as any - snippet

Theon let out a low whistle. “On nights like these I wish Sansa wasn’t Robb’s little sister,” he sighed, shaking his head dramatically.

Jon’s head jerked up at the mention of Sansa’s name. “Sansa? Where?”

“She just walked in,” Theon said, eyes narrowing as his lip twitched.

Jon glanced in the direction of the door, trying not to stare, trying to chase away the memory of his head between those long legs, those thighs clamped around his ears.

He quickly ducked his head, returning to nursing his beer, before Theon could get more suspicious.

“I mean, come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it!”

“About what?” Jon tried to play oblivious.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to fuck Sansa Stark!” Theon challenged him.

“I have, ” the traitorous words left his mouth. He’d known it wasn’t a good idea to go to the pub with Theon right now. His mouth always started acting of its own accord when he’d had a few beers.


	13. Later

For a long moment he remained immobile, anger, confusion, pain and desire all warring in his mind.

"Wait," he called out. 

She stopped, but didn't turn around. 

He reached for her hand, spinning her to face him. "Sansa," he croaked out. "You don't know what happened. You- you have no idea-"

"Then tell me," she enunciated slowly, eyes glittering.

He licked his lips. "I will. Later."

He slid his hand up her arm until he was cupping her cheek, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone.

She held his gaze and nodded. "Later."


	14. I want you

"You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" he asks. "It feels so good, Sansa. Such a sweet, clever mouth. But I can't wait to get inside that delicious cunt of yours again," he babbles. "Maybe I'll even fuck your ass this time. Aye, perhaps I'll do that, claim every single part of you. Would you like that? Is that what you want, to be completely mine?"

"Mmmm," she moans around his cock. "Yes, yes, I want that."

"Do that again, baby!" he begs.

"What? This?" she asks, innocently glancing up at him through her lashes. She takes him in deeper, humming and making him gasp as he tangles his hands in her hair. 

"Hold still," he urges her, rubbing her temples with his thumbs. Gently he thrusts into her mouth twice. "Okay?" he asks.

"Uhu," she hums.

"Fucking seven hells!" he shouts, holding her gaze to make sure she's still fine as he truly starts to fuck her mouth. 


End file.
